The Outrider (Redbourne Series #5 - Will's Story) (15 page)

She screamed, closing her eyes and bracing
herself for impact, but before she hit the ground, she was scooped up into her
rescuer’s arms and swung up in front of him. She breathed out a sigh of relief
and collapsed against Will’s chest. He felt good and she snuggled closer into
his neck, smiling when a deep-seated groan escaped him. It was as if nothing
could touch her when she was encircled in his embrace and she wanted to stay
there for as long as she could.

He slowed the horse to a trot and the stage
slowed down along with it.

“But, the bandits,” she said, darting a look over
his shoulder.

“The last two turned and high-tailed it for the
hills. We’re safe. For the moment.” He looked down at her, his face mere inches
from hers.

She glanced at his lips, then back to his eyes.

He cleared his throat and returned his gaze to
the road before them.

“Then, you can put me down and I’ll get back onto
the stage.”

“Not until we’re out of the ravine.” His face,
now stoic, looked like one of the chiseled sculptures her father had in his
office. Perfectly carved, but with a little scruff that accentuated his perfect
jawline.

She all of a sudden felt the need to defend her
actions.

“I had it under control,” she said, knowing it
was a bold-faced lie.

“We’ll argue about that once I get you safe and onto
solid ground,” Will said falling back behind the stage. “What were you
thinking?” he asked, exasperation lining his every word. “You could have been
killed back there. How am I supposed to protect you when you pull a stunt like
that?”

“I thought we were going to argue about that
later.”

He tilted his head, the cords of his jaw flexing.
With a little nudge of his foot, he urged the horse to pull up alongside the
stage driver. “Let’s head on into Plain City and we’ll send word to the
territory Marshal that they will find those men in the ravine,” he said to the
man. “I can’t be sure, but I think they were part of the Reynolds Gang.”

A sinking feeling suddenly hit her and she sat up
as tall as she could. “Where’s Caspar?” she asked, straining against him,
looking around for any sign of her dog.

“She’s a good dog. I’m sure she’ll catch up to us
sooner or later.”

“We can’t just leave her out here.” Elizabeth
whistled. “Caspar!” she yelled. “Here girl.”

“We can’t wait out here where we are exposed. I’m
sorry, ma’am, but we have to—”

“Caspar!” she yelled again, searching the
darkening hillside.

“You want me to stop to let the lady back onto
the stage?” Mr. Glenn asked.

“Yes!” Elizabeth jumped at the chance. “Let’s
stop, just for a moment. I’m sure she’s around here somewhere.”

“Let’s just push through,” Will said firmly. “The
lady won’t be able to get into any more trouble from here.” He tightened his
hold on her.

The driver chuckled. “Yes, sir,” he said with a
nod and snapped the reins once more.

“You don’t need to look after me. I will be just
fine in the coach with the other ladies.”

“Maybe so, but this was the next best thing to
holding your hand.”

She pushed away from him enough to look into his
face. As much as he tried to keep his facial expression at an even keel, his
dimple betrayed him. She narrowed her eyes playfully and smiled through pursed
lips. A grin broke out across his face.

After everything that had just happened, this was
proving to be a very interesting trip.

It took a while for Will’s heart to return to a
normal beat. As if it hadn’t been enough to have an assembly of bad guys
shooting at and chasing them, the woman had climbed out of the wagon and before
he knew it, she was on top of the stage shooting back. He’d admired her
courage, but had found it difficult to focus on the task at hand. At least
three men had lost their lives tod
ay and Paulie had gotten
shot—though the bullet had just grazed his arm.

Mrs. Jessup, or whoever she was, leaned against
him, strands of her brilliant red mane tickling his chin. But he liked the feel
of her in his arms. She was unlike any woman he had ever met. Most would have
reacted just as Opal and Gertrude had by hugging each other and whimpering in
the back of the stage, but this woman had demonstrated courage in the face of a
very real danger and he couldn’t help but be impressed. Even if it had scared
the living daylights out of him.

He still felt guilty about leaving the dog behind,
especially since there were still some intermittent showers, but he was
responsible for the cargo on the stage. Not just the money, but the women too,
and they needed to get somewhere safe before it got completely dark. He prayed
the pup would find her way as Mrs. Jessup seemed quite attached.

The sunlight disappeared behind the hills to the
west just as they reached the small town of Plain City. He hoped they would all
be able to find accommodations for the night. With a bankroll as large as the
one they had, he didn’t want to take any chances by travelling through the
night.

He looked down at the beauty now sleeping
peacefully in his arms—which had very little feeling left in them. The ride
into town had taken a little longer than he had anticipated, but he refused to
acknowledge his discomfort.

He cleared his throat. Mrs. Jessup stirred, but then
snuggled more deeply into him, her forehead nestling perfectly in the curve of
his neck. He cleared his throat again—more loudly this time.

“Are we there?” she asked with a sleep-laced
voice.

“Yes. I am going to drop you off in front of the
hotel where Mr. Glenn has taken Opal and Gertrude. They should have a room for
you for the night.”

He was greeted with silence, so he looked down to
see if she’d fallen back to sleep. Her eyes were open, but she didn’t speak.

“I’ll just be in the livery if you need anything,”
he told her huskily.

“You won’t be staying at the hotel?” she asked
quietly, still leaning against him.

“I’m on duty. I can’t leave the stagecoach
unattended, but I’ll catch a few hours of shuteye in the room at the back of
the livery while Paulie takes the first watch.”

Silence.

“Don’t worry,” he said, sensing her reluctance to
be alone, “it’s just down the street.”

“What exactly were those bandits after?” she
asked, now fully awake and looking up at him.

He cursed himself for allowing the beauty to
sleep in his lap. He was quickly becoming too familiar with the woman. If she
kept looking up at him like that, he may not be able to stop himself from
partaking of her plump and slightly parted lips. He shook his head, dragging
his gaze from her luscious mouth.

“Three beautiful mail-order-brides,” he told her
with a wink.

“I’m serious,” she said, raising her chin even
higher.

He groaned. Did she have any idea what she was
doing to him? He cleared his throat.

“We’re carrying a bankroll into Kansas City.”
There was no sense keeping the truth from her.

To his disappointment, she dropped her head,
nodding acknowledgement.

“I wish someone had told me what we were
carrying. I would have been much better prepared,” she said quietly, almost in
a whisper.

“You…” He raised her chin until she raised her
lashes to look at him and he leaned in a little closer. “…were amazing out
there.” He closed the distance between them, his lips so close to hers he could
almost taste them.

It took every ounce of strength in him not to
claim her lips in his kiss, but what kind of gentleman would he be if he succumbed?

“It’s late, ma’am,” he said as he pulled up in
front of the hotel. “I should get you to bed.” Heat flooded his neck and face.
“I mean, I should allow you to retire for the night.”

Smooth, Redbourne.

“Thank you for everything you did for me today,”
she said before sliding down off his lap.

“For saving your life?” he goaded her with a
grin.

She smiled warmly. “Yes.”

“The pleasure was mine, ma’am.” He tipped his hat.
“I’m sorry we didn’t make Kansas City in time for you to catch the train,” he
added as an afterthought before turning Indy back toward the livery. “We’ll
leave just after first light,” he called over his shoulder. “Around seven.”

Will breathed in the night air, feeling lighter
than he had in a good long while. Feeling had started to return in his arms,
yet somehow, they felt empty. It had been a long time since a woman had
affected him in such a way. Then, the nagging thought came into his head.

What if she really is Sterling Archer’s daughter?

Elizabeth stepped inside the hotel and leaned
against the front window until Will was out of sight. She couldn’t stay there.
Her satchel, which contained every cent she had left, was still in the
stagecoach and if the station would not exchange the train she missed for a new
one, she would have just enough to buy another ticket to Silver Falls. No, she
couldn’t spend money on something as frivolous as a hotel room when there was a
perfectly good stagecoach sitting empty in the livery.

She’d fallen asleep, comfortable in Will’s arms,
for the better part of the last hour as they’d made their way into the small
town of Plain City, Kansas. At least, it had stopped raining somewhere along
the way and she’d been able to rest. At first, she hadn’t appreciated Will’s
insistence that she ride with him on a single horse, but it had proven to be
more pleasant than she would have expected. They hadn’t spoken much, but she’d
felt safe. Protected.

Elizabeth peeked out the window, watching Will
until he was out of sight. As soon as he disappeared around a corner, she
ducked out of the hotel, determined to get back into the stage. Unfamiliar with
Plain City, Elizabeth wasn’t sure exactly how she would be able to get into the
building undetected, but had every confidence an idea would strike her by the
time she reached the livery.

As she stood just outside the stock house, she
saw that Will’s horse had been tied up to the post in front of the telegraph
office. A small light flickered in the window and Elizabeth guessed he’d woken
the operator. If she slipped inside the livery right now, she may be able to do
it unnoticed. She pulled open the unlocked door and with light, careful steps
made her way over to the stage. A crunching noise drew her attention to the
left of the coach and she turned over her shoulder to look behind her when she
bumped into someone in front of her. She gasped and jumped backward behind the
rear of the stage, her heart thumping wildly in her chest.

“Who’s there?” a male voice called out, the light
from a lantern filling the space behind her. After all of the drama they’d had
in the last few hours, the last thing she needed was to get shot as an
intruder.

“Eliza Beth,” she said, cursing the quake in her
voice as she peeked around the corner, then stepped out into the dim light.

“Mrs. Jessup?” He held up the light to illuminate
her face.

She smiled and waved.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, ma’am,” he said. “Is
there something I can do for you? I’d a thought you would be all settled in
over at the hotel by now. It’s been a long day.”

“No. I’m fine, Mr…?”

“It’s Paulie, ma’am. Just Paulie.”

“Then, just call me Eliza Beth.” The name seemed
to fall off her lips as if it truly belonged to her. She paused for a moment,
then motioned to the stage. “Paulie,” she nodded, acknowledging that she’d used
his given name. “I was just headed in to collect my things from inside the
stage and I will be on my way.”

“Ms. Arnold and Ms. Gailey both required a bag
for the night as well.” He held the lantern in one hand as he started to climb.
“Which one is yours?” he asked.

“I just have my satchel, Mr…Paulie. It’s just
there.” She pointed at the large brown bag with the straps dangling over the
side.

Paulie moved a few bags, overlooking hers.

“Might I say, ma’am, you are quite handy with a
rifle,” he told her, wincing and sucking in a breath as he reached for her bag.
“That was sure some good shootin’ today. You were as good as any outrider I’ve
seen. I’d say you probably saved my life.” He raised the lantern to reveal a
bloody shoulder.

“You were shot?” she asked, horrified that he was
acting so nonchalant about the injury.

“Just grazed me, ma’am, but it coulda been a
whole lot worse.”

“There must be a doctor in this town. Don’t you
think you should have it looked at?”

“Nah. It stopped bleeding. It’ll be fine.”

“Mr…”

He cleared his throat.

“Paulie,” she corrected, “the last thing you need
is for infection to set in. Better come on down here and let me take a look at
it.”

“I haven’t gotten to your bag yet.”

“That’s all right. It’s not going anywhere.”

Paulie climbed down from the stage and sat on a
stool next to the work table.

On many an occasion, Elizabeth’d had need of
stitching up a fighter or cleaning up his wounds after a fight. She imagined
that a bullet wound that had just grazed the skin couldn’t be any worse than
that, but she’d also seen what could happen to the simplest wound if not cared
for properly. Unless this small town had a doctor, she doubted they would be
able to find many of the appropriate supplies. The General Store would be
closed at this hour, so she’d have to think of something else that might help.

“Do you think you could go over to the saloon and
pick up a bottle of something strong?” Heat filled her cheeks as she realized
what that must sound like coming from a lady. “We need to disinfect the wound,”
she clarified. “Unless you happen to have some iodine or other disinfectant on
hand.”

He thought for a moment. “Nothing like that, but
I saw some medicine for horses right over here,” he said as he made his way to
a small shelf next to a cluster of open stalls.

Elizabeth picked up the bottle and looked at it. She
did not recognize the name on the front, so she unscrewed the lid and took a
whiff. Whew. Whiskey. “This will have to do. Now, let me see that wound.”

Paulie gingerly worked at unfastening the buttons
of his shirt and pulled it down off of his shoulder so she could get a better
look at the injured area. While the bullet had certainly passed through, it was
deeper than she had expected. It was more than a simple graze. Blood had caked
all down his arm and absorbed into the sleeve of his shirt.

“Do they have a water pump around here?” she
asked as she squinted into the darkness.

Without hesitation, Paulie stood up, grabbed a
bucket from the floor next to a doorway, and stepped outside, holding up the
lantern in front of him—though it was easy to tell that the weight pained him.

Elizabeth rubbed her arms against the night
chill, grateful to be out of the evening’s breeze. She caught a glimpse of a
nice thick hunting knife sitting at the edge of a work table and reached for
it. They would need some bandages and she doubted she would be able to find
much out here.

A low rumbling sound emerged from a darkened
hallway. Her curiosity compelled her to move toward the darkened doorway. A
sliver of the moon’s light spilled into a small room where she could make out
two sets of bunkbeds and, by the shadows that filled the bottom bunk of the
first, it appeared as if a man slept there. He was snoring.

Elizabeth laughed to herself. It was the
stagecoach driver. She backed away slowly, but tripped over a feed bucket, then
knocked into a water pail that fell, tumbling to the ground with a loud
clatter.

“What in tarnation?” the driver yelled, shooting
out of his bed, weapon cocked and held up in front of him. He marched out of
the little room, but stopped short when he nearly ran her over.

“I did not mean to wake you,” she said as she
bent down to pick up the offending cans. “I am so sorry.”

“Mrs. Calamity Jane, is that you?”

Elizabeth felt the blush creep into her face.
She’d heard tales of the frontierswoman who was good with a gun.

“I was just looking for some bandages for
Paulie’s arm,” she offered.

The driver grumbled a little as he appeared from
the darkened room and made his way over to the stagecoach. He climbed up into
the driver’s seat.

“Sure appreciate what you done today, young lady.
I don’t know if we would have made it this far with our full cargo with just
the two outriders. I told ‘em we’d need more than two, but do they listen to
the likes of me?” He shook his head. “You’ve got some real skill with a rifle,”
he said as he turned around and fiddled with something behind him.

Elizabeth beamed at his praise.

A few loud knocks and clanks and he climbed back
down off the wagon, handing her a smaller, rectangular, wooden box.

“In case of emergencies,” he said. “Never know
when you might need something like that in this line of work. Now, I am going
back to sleep,” he said as he stumbled back toward the bunk room. “Wake me when
its morning. And try to keep it down out here.” He waved and disappeared again
into the darkness.

Elizabeth set the small box down on the work
table and felt around for a latch to open it.

Nothing.

Paulie returned with a full bucket of cold water
and the lantern. He set it down on the table and retook his seat, pulled his
sleeve down off his shoulder to expose the wound, and waited.

“I hope that helps,” he said.

With the added light from the lantern, Elizabeth
found that the box Mr. Glenn had given her had a sliding mechanism built into
it. When she pulled it open, she found a few rolls of gauze, liniment, a small
bottle of spirits, a thin piece of wood, and a couple of washcloths.

Perfect.

She pulled out one of the rags and dunked it into
the water, then turned to the wound in Paulie’s arm and dabbed at the dried
blood. She repeated the action, wringing out the dirty water into an empty bowl
she’d discovered under the table, until the wound itself became visible and all
of the dirt and dried blood had been cleaned away from it. Angry red skin
surrounded the hole, but it did not yet look infected.

“This is going to hurt, Paulie. Are you ready?”

He had been a good patient thus far, but
Elizabeth imagined that even cleaning the wound had been painful.

Paulie nodded, bracing himself against the work
table.

She opened the small bottle of spirits from the
box, but before she could pour some of it over the wound, Paulie snatched it
out of her hand and took a quick sip. With a little shrug of his shoulders, he
handed it back to her.

“Now, I’m ready.”

She poured a little over his arm, then with the
wash cloth scrubbed at the open sore until a light wave of fresh blood came out
onto the rag, then she poured a little more.

Paulie’s jaw clenched tightly together and he
pounded several times on the table while exhaling loudly.

“Just a little while longer, and you’ll be almost
as good as new.” Elizabeth poured a good portion of the remaining bottle on top
of the wound for good measure, then retrieved one of the dry washrags from the
box, dabbed around the injured area, and wrapped it tightly with several layers
of gauze dressing, securing it with a pin she’d also found in the little
medical kit.

“All done,” she said as she stepped away from
him.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Thank
you
, Paulie, for helping to keep us
safe.”

He beamed at her appraisal.

“Goodnight, ma’am. You best be getting back to
the hotel. I’m sure you’ll want some rest after the day we’ve had. Morning’ll
be here before you know it. Speaking of which, it’s time I had another look
around.”

Elizabeth nodded and turned toward the stage,
walking slowly.

“Goodnight,” she called after him.

Paulie stood tall, and held the lantern up as he
stepped outside the livery to start his walk of the perimeter.

Elizabeth lifted her foot up onto the metal plank
that served as a stair up into the stage and reached as tall as she could to
retrieve her satchel. The handle dangled below the railing and it appeared to
be clear of any other obstructions. She tugged on the leather strap until it
tumbled over the edge, then she quietly slipped inside the stage and pulled the
door closed behind her, keeping her head low. At least it would be dry, if a
little cold.

She sat in the seat, leaned against the side with
her satchel tucked up behind her head like a pillow, and closed her eyes. Paulie
had been right. She longed for rest—even a few hours would be better than none
at all.